


Just Pucking Loopy.

by RussianSunflower3



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coach Mizoguchi, Figure skater Iwaizumi, First Meetings, Ice hockey player Hanamaki, Ice hockey player Matsukawa, Ice hockey player Oikawa, Lots of technical terms, M/M, skating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: Oikawa Tooru, Captain of The Tyrants, is a pro Ice Hockey player having a practice match again Hanamaki's team, The Hornets at their local rink.As they're getting ready to leave, in walks Heartstealer Hajime, a loose canon in the figure skating world notoriously known as both Japan's best and worst skater. And Heartstealer Hajime is about to live up to his nickname.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's Iwaizumi's skating song, if you want to listen along whilst you read!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzljtlGj_lA&list=PLno9aC1A6f6EUARlSTxEHgwQfltpzV4mo&index=12  
> If the link doesn't work, it should copy-paste into the url~.

“Mattsun! Butterfly!” It’s the last point of the ice hockey game between Tooru’s Tyrants and Hana’s Hornets, and the team in yellow and black streaks across the ice towards the attacking zone and takes the shot.

“Got it!” Taking the order from his captain, Matsukawa drops to his knees, covering the lower half of the net with his leg pads. The puck bounces off harmless and Oikawa quickly loops around elegantly to catch it with his stick, skating forwards with aggressiveness rolling off him in waves. It’s almost like he’s daring the opposing team to come anywhere within range. Some of them try, but Oikawa is a beast on the ice and nothing stops him from diligently using his shoulder pads to protect against the attempted onslaught. 

“Don’t let him breakaway!” Despite the call from Hanamaki, the team captain of the Hornets, Oikawa manages to skate away from the opposition and all that stands between him and the net is the goalie. He takes the shot as close as he can get and the puck darts between the goalie’s legs. Admittedly, Oikawa used the fact that the Hornet’s goalie was a Stand-Up type instead of a Flopper, but it scores them the winning point two seconds before the klaxon sounds to end the game.

“Fiiiiive-Hoooooole!” The Tyrants cheer and gather in celebration as their opponents retreat back to the side to get off the ice. Hanamaki slides over to them with his usual grace and stops right into front of Oikawa, offering out his hand to shake. 

“Good game. But maybe next time, don’t scare the shit out of my new players?” He gestures over to where the new team members for the Hornets are standing furthest away from the ice, taking their skates off and glancing nervously at Oikawa like he’s a monster. The Tyrant laughs and shakes Hanamaki’s hand vigourously.

“It’s a practice game, and I’m not the scariest one out there~!” Matsukawa claps Oikawa on the back with one hand, slinging his other arm around Hanamaki’s shoulder and kissing his cheek.

“Yeah, gotta get the newbies used to the Demon King before the encounter The Talon.” Oikawa’s face twists into intense dislike, and maybe a little bitterness.

“Do not mention _Ushiwaka_ anywhere near me.”

“Ooh, what’re you gonna do~?”

“Get angry and do your squeaky voice?” Hanamaki imitates Oikawa’s usual pitch of shrieking when he’s enraged, and whilst Matsukawa laughs at his boyfriend’s antics, Oikawa leans in close with a glare and murmurs quietly.

“I will shove a puck so far up your ass you’ll have a new gag.” Paling, the Hornets captain skates backwards awkwardly to put distance between himself and Oikawa. Matsukawa laughs and pushes himself across the ice to his boyfriend, colliding with him just enough that they remain standing, despite Hanamaki’s screech and wobble. The skid across the rest of the rink to thud lightly into the barricades and Hanamaki pouts at Matsukawa’s smug grin.

“You think you’re soooo great just because you caught me off guard?”

“No, I’m great because I have you trapped and will only let you go for a price~.” Hanamaki catches on and his lips turn upwards in a small smile.

“Name your price.”

“Kiss me.” There’s no pause between Matsukawa’s words and the next step, Hanamaki crashing his lips eagerly into Matsukawa’s, kissing him roughly but innocently. That doesn’t stop Oikawa making a fake sound of disgust as he steps off the ice just next to them. He clunks his blades on the edge of the rink to clear ice off them, and awkwardly potters over to the nearest chair to remove his skates. The casing is put over the blade to protect it before he packs them into his bag - since the chair nearest the rink entrance was the one he always used before and after practice games. Matsukawa and Hanamaki separate as there’s a shout from across the rink for them to get off the ice and they’re all giggly as they sink into chairs near Oikawa.

“I see you didn’t put your newbies in the game.”

“Hmm… Nope. I want them to get experience from training sessions before I put them in a game.”

“That’s cruel, Oikawa.”

“Hey! That’s my method okay, and it works!” Makki snickers as his eyes drift over to where the Zambooni is glazing over the ice, removing all the scratches and trails in the ice that the hockey players have left behind. The ice glistens with the molecule thin layer of water on top, looking like a perfect winter wonderland.

“Man, I wish I could skate on that…” 

“Pfft. Too late now, ‘Hiro. Someone else hired this time block.” Hanamaki huffs indignantly and puts his head in his hands, grumbling about how the ice looked so smooth, and how he wanted to go out there, and how it wouldn’t hurt to steal five more minutes.

“Who even _is_ meant to be out there? I don’t see anyone!”

“It was listed as private in the book… Maybe the rink owners need to do maintenance or something?”

“If that was the case, Mattsun, they’d be closed all day.” Matsukawa pauses in untying his laces to stare deadpan at Oikawa for pointing out the flaw in his suggestion. With a snort, Hanamaki bursts into laughter at the expression and tucks his ice hockey jumper into his bag.

“Come on, we’d better be go- Ho- Holy shit.” Matsukawa tilts his head in confusion, silently asking what that reaction was for. Hanamaki’s astounded face gazes up towards the top of the chairs, where people come into from the main building. 

“So, you know your favourite figure skater…” That’s all it takes for Matsukawa to whip his head around in the direction Hanamaki is looking and he gasps loudly before turning back to Oikawa with the same expression of a child at disneyland seeing their favourite character. Oikawa just sassily raises a single eyebrow because what’s so great about a figure skater? Delicacy isn’t exactly in Oikawa’s vocabulary. He likes to go all out when it comes to something, not skate a little, jump a little, whoop de doo, a spin here and there. With a reluctant sigh, and lots of Matsukawa’s annoying poking to get him to oblige, Oikawa looks up.

Oh woah. That is- That is _not_ what he was expecting to see. He had been expecting a dainty, lithe person in a glittery feminine costume, accompanied by a 60 year old coach. But what he _saw_ was a fairly young blond coach with the most _gorgeous_ man he had ever seen. 

Beefy. Stocky. Muscular. Handsome. Those were the first few words that flew to mind. Biting down on his bottom lip to stop his thirst escaping, Oikawa allowed his eyes to linger as he scrutinized the newcomer to the rink. 

Black scruffy hair that _really_ needed some styling, unless he was the type to have intentionally messy spikes. His jaw was chiseled and perfect, just Oikawa’s preference. Even from this distance, Oikawa could see his eyes were different. 

One was a bright, harlequin green. The other, a foggy grey. That certainly catches Oikawa’s attention. He’s never seen heterochromia in person before, and just like those aesthetic pictures on the internet, he can see it truly is beautiful.

As the skater walks down an aisle not too far from them, Oikawa watches his strong, thick thighs moving against the tight black leggings he wore, leaving little of his legs to the imagination. His calves were toned and sleek, a true blessing, and his arms weren’t much worse off. 

Better, even. Biceps for days. Triceps that could lift a small bovine. Shoulders that Oikawa just wanted to nibble. His leotard covered most else, but he was certainly beef enough that Oikawa could tell he was _ripped_. Not in the same slender-with-a-six-pack way as himself, but more like he worked out at a gym frequently. 

“That’s Heartstealer Hajime…” Matsukawa’s awed whisper draws Oikawa back to reality and he turns back to his friends in curiosity. 

“Eh? Heartstealer?”

“His skating is so beautiful and elegant and _passionate_ that it just… Steals your heart. Just like it says on the tin, really.”

“Pfft. I doubt that, Mattsun.” Hanamaki snickers in amusement as he stuffs his kneepads into any remaining space in his bag.

“It’s true. He stole my boyfriend.” There’s a pause where Oikawa waits for Matsukawa to retaliate to the claim, but when he doesn’t, the Captain smacks his shoulder lightly.

“Ow. What was that for?”

“Aren’t you going to defend yourself?!”

“Ain’t gonna fight the truth.”

“Preach.” With a groan of frustration, Oikawa slaps both hands to his face and drags them downwards as Hanamaki and Matsukawa high-five each other.

“I give up trying to understand you two.”

“Yeah, it’s probably better that way. Y’know. For your own peace of mind.” He chuckles under his breath and turns back to the skater, who has just finished stretching and is stepping onto the rink. Unlike the hockey players, who drop to a study stance and bulk up, Heartstealer Hajime remains tall and proud, chin jutted out with a little bit of smugness. He can feel the gaze of the hockey players on his back.

“Take it easy, Iwaizumi. Just a light warm up first.” He nods towards Mizoguchi and stretches his arm across his body one more time to loosen up his shoulders. There’s a touch of mischief on his lips that Mizoguchi can’t see from this angle and Iwaizumi wonders how much he can get away with.

“Yes Coach.” He pushes off at a slow pace, intentionally luring his Coach into thinking he’s being obedient for once. Mizoguchi hasn’t actually coached him through a season yet, but their practices are going well. The young man seems to let Iwaizumi have a little bit of freedom in practice, so long as he doesn’t hurt himself. But still, Iwaizumi has a reputation amongst coaches.

Trouble-maker.   
Loose cannon.  
Reckless free-spirit.  
Untamed rookie.

The last one, he gets bitter at. He’s no rookie. Just because he gets the worst scores in all of Japan, that doesn’t mean he can’t skate. Rather, his low scores are because he _can_. 

Iwaizumi habitually gets lost in music. The rhythm steals him away and he discards the routine his past coaches forced on him, to skate how _he_ wants. How the music tells him. He sings along with the song quietly, too quiet for anyone to hear, but gets points deducted for distracting from his skating, as well as lacking crucial elements because they didn't fit the music.

It’s a cruel, cruel scoring system for people like Iwaizumi. He elongates a breath as he finishes the third lap of the rink, and that’s when Mizoguchi seems to catch on.

“Keep it _light_ , don’t you dare try anything until you’ve warmed up!” With a scowl, Iwaizumi’s shoulders sag and he grumbles back his reluctant admission that he’ll behave. Mizoguchi nods, his own skates on his feet in case he has to intervene. 

As the youngest and most recent of Iwaizumi’s coaches, he seems to have his developed his own way of making sure he’s heard, and Iwaizumi _really_ doesn’t want the embarrassment of his coach coming onto the ice to stop him whilst those hockey players are watching. 

He glances up at them as he glides past backwards. Two of them watch him intensely and one with minor interest. He winks with his grey eye and the curly black haired one dramatically clutches at his chest and fakes a sob to the pinkette watching casually. 

But it’s not his reaction that Iwaizumi takes the most note of. Sure, it makes him laugh, but it’s the brunet wearing a #1 shirt that _really_ catches his attention. His eyes are overshadowed with hunger, an enticing shade of brown that makes him appear both alluring and dangerous. At Iwaizumi’s teasing wink, he doesn’t faint or blush like his normal standard of fans, but instead leans forward to rest his elbows on the rink side and places his chin on his hands, head tilted cockily as if to say _“Is that all you’ve got?”_.

It’s a silent challenge, and Iwaizumi would be a fool to reject it.

“Alright then, hockey jock.” He steps round to face the front and leans into his weight as he pushes one skate behind the other, propelling himself forwards. Once he’s gain sufficient speed, he swings one leg around and hops onto the other, spreading his first leg out in a 90 degree angle to the one he spins on, his body the same in a perfect arabesque. 

It’s nothing fancy, just a simple camel spin, but as he tucks his free leg in to come out of it, bringing his arms down and righting his body, he can feel their awed stares. It’s a graceful move despite its simplicity, and one of Iwaizumi’s very favourites. With his free leg back on the ice, he glides backwards to slow down and eventually comes to a halt, tapping the toe of one blade into the ice and shooting a smug grin to the hockey players.

“Do a barrel roll!” He rolls his eyes at the one slouching as he watches, changed fully out of his hockey kit and just shouting out for fun. The black haired one - Matsukawa on his jersey - shoves at him and Iwaizumi thinks he hears the word impossible in there somewhere. 

Ooh, now they’re getting under his skin. His blood boils, especially when #1 over there laughs and proclaims that nobody can physically do anything _like_ a barrel roll on the ice. His fist clenches and he starts forwards to pick up speed again. Mizoguchi looks up from a clipboard just in time to clock onto what’s happening.

“Iwaizumi, no!” He crouches low and throws his body weight into the air, parallel with the ice for a split second before he swings his leg as a counter-weight and lands in a sit spin. He rises out of it with a glare towards the speechless hockey players, their jaws hanging open in unison. He hears Mizoguchi ranting in the background, intentionally ignoring him in favour of waiting for his mini-audience to say something, heart hammering in his ears. 

They’re silent. He skates over to them before skidding to a stop on the side of his blades, showering them with splinters of ice kicked up from the sudden grate to a halt. The cold flints seem to bring them back to being capable of thought. Matsukawa slams his hands on the back of #1’s chair as he stands up, practically sparkling.

“Holy shit! _Holy **shit**_!!! Was that a butterfly kick!?! I’ve never seen one in person, holy fucking shit!” Iwaizumi blinks for a moment, equally surprised and lost for words. 

“U-Uh. Yeah. It was.”

“That was so _awesome_!”

“Well, it wasn’t a barrel roll, but you got pretty close so I’ll give you credit for that.” Iwaizumi puffs his chest out proudly, a genuine smile on his lips. #1 still hasn’t said anything.

“Hey, Oikawa, why don’t you close your mouth? Unless you’re trying to become a fish. 10/10 for the impersonation.” 

“Geh! I am _not_ trying to become a fish, thank you, Makki!” Oikawa leans over the space in the aisle to whack Makki’s arm, and it suddenly all clicks into place for Iwaizumi. Why these three are at the ice rink, aside from their obvious uniforms. Why one of them had previously been wearing a different colour. And why they appeared so _familiar_.

“Oikawa Tooru of The Tyrants?! And _Hana_ maki Takahiro from the Hornets?! Then you must be… No way. _No **way**_! Matsukawa _Issei_? The Tyrant goalkeeper?” 

“Y-Yeah, that’s me.” Matsukawa is startled back into his seat when Iwaizumi pretty much lunges over the walls of the rink, one skate lifted off the ice with how far he leans forwards, enthusiasm and admiration written all over his face.

“No fucking way! You’re a legend! A living legend!”

“H-Huh?!” Hanamaki bursts into laughter as his boyfriend covers his face with his hands, muttering explicits into them over and over again due to how astounded he is. Oikawa’s grin grows smug and sinister.

“Woooow, Mattsun~. Looks like your number one fan is the one you fan over!” Matsukawa lunges forwards to cover Oikawa’s mouth and wrestle him down into the chair like’s he’s trying to suffocate him, the tips of his ears a burning red.

“Shhh! Shut up! Oh my god, you’re so embarrassing!” A handsome laugh bursts out from Iwaizumi’s throat and the hockey players are silenced once more, not by graceful movements or being proved wrong, but because that laugh is an _enrapturing_ sound. 

“Iwaizumi!” All Iwaizumi’s good feelings sink into a pit of annoyance. Great. He’s going to be lectured by his coach. For the third time this week. He grumbles under his breath and skates over to Mizoguchi with his head hung low and hands balled into fists at his side. 

“What did I say to you at the beginning?”

“... Keep it light...”

“And what is the butterfly kick?”

“... Not light.”

“Then _why_ are you doing it before warming up?!” Iwaizumi purses his lips together in a small pout and stubs the blade of his ice skate against the ice. He can hear the hockey players cackling and hollering in the background, and as he shoots a glare in their direction, Mizoguchi follows it.

Now, one thing about Mizoguchi is that he _knows_ Iwaizumi’s reputation. He’s a younger coach just coming onto the scene and is determined for his skater to be one the best, instead of _“ notoriously the best yet worst in Japan”. _ So to tame a skater as reckless as Iwaizumi, Mizoguchi knows to meet him halfway. And honestly, their similarities in personality aid to their climb in the ice skating world. Henceforth, when others are laughing at his student, Mizoguchi is not a happy coach.

“Oi. Iwaizumi. Which track do you want me to put on?”

“Track 4.” Eyes still fixed on the hockey players and exuding and aura of “Look at me,” Iwaizumi skates into the centre of the ice as Mizoguchi heads over to the sound system and rigs up the music. 

Iwaizumi takes starting position, putting most of his weight on his right leg, left knee crooked so that the toe of his skate just touches the ice. His arms reach up above him, right hand grabbing his left wrist as he stretches out for something, and his chin tilted upwards so he appears to be gazing forlornly into the distance of the universe. 

It certainly catches the attention of his tiny audience, and he’s about to show them he means business. **Serious** business. 

He and Mizoguchi have been experimenting with music choice lately. Not just genre, but how to fix the problem that he sung along to every song he danced to. The answer had been relatively simple. No lyrics. 

Since the Short Programme Iwaizumi had to learn was limited to 2 minutes and 50 seconds, it had been trouble to find something short enough that wasn’t too fast or lacked the crescendo Iwaizumi needed to execute a jump. Iwaizumi had stumbled across the perfect piece in a movie he hadn’t even chosen to see, an anime movie one of his ‘friends’ dragged him into watching. 

The scene itself had been beautiful, but as Iwaizumi had listened, all he could picture was the dance that the music wrote by itself, the fluidity and elegance with a gentle tone that lifted spirits, followed by clashing cymbals of victory and happiness, and a pure love of life! 

Yes, the second he heard this song, he had felt it flowing through his veins and seen his routine in crystal clarity. Maybe it had been rude to run out on Tendou like that, but Iwaizumi had rushed to grab his skates, purchase the music, and head to the closest rink. 

He had skated it over and over again until he couldn’t breath from exerting himself and laughing because it just made him _so happy_ \- 

It was a song he wanted to share, a dance he wanted to flaunt, and it was the perfect instrument for proving to these hockey players - except Matsukawa, he already seemed respectful and amazed - that Iwaizumi was more than just a rookie or rumour. 

As the starting notes of Ki Toki To - Yonhon Ashi no Odori build, Iwaizumi pushes back with his lifted foot and starts skating backwards, spiralling out from the centre to the pulses of music until the first peak of volume, 13 seconds in, dropping into a sit spin that lasts 3 seconds before he pushes himself back up into standing, still spinning, and changes his leading foot at 20 seconds to gracefully melt into a serpentine edge step. 

At exactly 30 seconds, he launches into the air for an impressive quadruple salchow, followed by a double axel and connecting steps. A camel spin follows, just as he had done when he first noticed them watching, and he holds it for an impressive 6 seconds before raising his arabesque and holding his free leg _above_ his head in a classic Biellmann spin. 

At 46 seconds, he releases his leg and slows his spin to glide across the ice elegantly, one arm forwards as if offering it out in proposal and the other folded behind his back. A small hop has his facing forwards at 52 seconds, ready for his next step sequence - an 8 second long straight step sequence that he finishes with flying sit spin, and glides for 14 seconds. 

He’s now at 1:18, and over halfway through his performance. His legs are tired and aching, but the music is his fuel and he feels like he can do anything. He takes a deep breath and throws himself into a triple axel that lands exactly as the music bursts with a clash of cymbals. He wobbles on the landing, which would result in points deducted, but it’s not noticeable enough for the hockey players to pick up on. 

To regather his breath and steel himself for the part of music he knows is next, Iwaizumi sticks to circling around the edge of the rink without any special moves. His arms dance with the music, either swaying to the side with enough force to loop around, or shooting up to the ceiling and then drawing back in towards his chest. 

He doesn’t need to count the seconds. He can feel the music. But as a technique that’s been hammered into him from his last couch, he counts one breath every two seconds and he knows he’s approaching 1:29. 

This is his moment. This is when he takes all his years of practice and building up leg strength, and throws it into a few impressive seconds near the _end_ of his routine, like an idiot would. 

But the music tells him to, so Iwaizumi shall. A second later, and he launches himself into a quadruple toe loop, followed by a single lutz and smaller hops to match the clash of the cymbals. Just as the crescendo drops into fluttering piano notes and twinkling harp strings, Iwaizumi drops into cantilever, hands brushing over the smooth surface of the ice until he straightens his back and finishes in the same position he started, but his reach towards the heights a little more desperate, like he’s begging to fly away with the fading twinkling tunes, breathing heavily at the challenging routine.

He slowly relaxes from his position and dares to look directly at the hockey skaters. Matsukawa looks like he’s weeping with joy even from this distance. Hanamaki has moved to sit next to him, letting Matsukawa cry into his shoulder and rubbing his back, but the grin on his face isn’t due just amusement at his boyfriend’s situation; it’s the pure joy he saw and _felt_ from Iwaizumi’s skating, the music conveyed through his very body. 

Oikawa is almost throwing himself over the gate separating the ice from the ground, his eyes wide and mesmerised, a certain desperation in his features like he’s trying to reach out for Iwaizumi in the same way Iwaizumi reached for the music.

He’s captivated.

Captain of the ice hockey team, Tooru’s Tyrants; a rough and tumble kind of guy who cared more about dominating his opponents than fancy footwork, Oikawa is absolutely struck by Heartstealer Hajime and his figure skating. 

Beautiful brown eyes meet with mesmerising mismatched green and grey and Oikawa senses two strings of fate entangling together. Something within him feels connected, and he knows that at tomorrow’s practice, he’ll be staying behind much longer on purpose.

**Author's Note:**

> I might consider writing more of this, depending on the reaction!


End file.
